


An All-Consuming Love

by TwilaFrost



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Sunaosa, Canon Compliant, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Hanahaki Disease, How Do I Tag, M/M, Miya Atsumu in Love, Pining Miya Atsumu, Post-Time Skip, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, Pro Volleyball Player Sakusa Kiyoomi, background bokuaka - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25582444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwilaFrost/pseuds/TwilaFrost
Summary: Miya Atsumu has experienced several types of love in his 23 years of life. Love for his family, friends, hobbies, and crushes. Even those feelings of romantic love differ between each person. But what he really yearns for is that one great love everyone talks about. He finally finds it in Sakusa Kiyoomi. However, his love starts to consume him from the inside-out when flowers take root in his lungs.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 111
Kudos: 754
Collections: SakuAtsu Fics, ~SakuAtsu~





	1. Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first time writing in several years, and my first fanfic. I have recently become absolutely obsessed with this ship and I don't believe I've been a Hanahaki fic of them. So I hope you enjoy!

In his twenty-three years of life, Miya Atsumu has already experienced his fair share of love. It isn’t all romantic love, in fact, his first experience with love is that of familial love: A bond between mother and son, father and son, and of course brothers. Atsumu loves his twin more than he will ever admit, he has a reputation as a certifiable asshole to keep after all. Then there is his next big love: Volleyball. It burns with a fiery passion, molding itself and intertwining with his soul; and it still does.

Over the years, Atsumu’s heart bursts with love that he yearns to give. However, he’s ever fearful of vulnerability or judgment, keeping his feelings buried under his overarching personality. It isn’t until high school that Atsumu finds his first taste of real romantic desire. His first romantic love comes in the form of Kita Shinsuke.

As an inexperienced first year, Atsumu is hesitant to express these new feelings. However, in a fit of confidence, he confesses to his senpai at the end of the year. No one bothers to conceal their shock when their newly announced captain accepts his confession.

A first love is a love you never forget. For how can you forget the day your world filled with color and the birds sang, and you do an excited dance in your room when no one is watching? It’s a love where you’re afraid to make a mistake, carefully tiptoeing around any issues that may arise. For how can you risk not being the person you believe your love wants? A love that’s vulnerable, but too scared to expose the fragile heart hidden behind those thick walls. For how can you simply communicate what you are truly feeling without fear of rejection? It’s a love that lingers beyond its expiration date. For how can you let go of that feeling even when the one who holds it is gone?

When Kita breaks up with Atsumu before he leaves for university, the setter experiences his first heartbreak. He falls back onto his brother, Osamu, and friend Suna Rintarou. But being Miya Atsumu, he can’t let these depressive thoughts linger, at least not in front of anyone. No, he bounces back in a few days and is perfectly fine - on the outside at least. Those thoughts are shoved away and suppressed. Who needs them? Not Atsumu.

It’s the middle of third year when he falls in love with Suna Rintarou. It suddenly hits him in the face like a hard slap. However, this time Atsumu doesn’t dare even contemplate confessing his feelings for the lanky middle blocker. He sees the way Suna and Osamu have interacted ever since first year, the sly glances, careful touches, soft smiles. No matter how much of an asshole he ~~pretends to be~~ is, he would never stand in the way of his brother’s happiness. Remember, he loves his brother more than he’ll ever admit after all. 

Thankfully, the sudden onslaught of this love fades away just as quickly as it came. However, it was not any less true. And so Atsumu smiles to himself as he watches Suna’s and Osamu’s love blossom into a relationship (finally) when Suna gets the balls to confess right after their graduation ceremony. By this time, his once romantic love for Suna is cemented as what the Greeks called philia, a deep friendship and comradery. 

When the twins each declare to be the happier and more successful one by eighty, Atsumu thinks for a moment that perhaps he wouldn’t mind losing this one if the smile he sees on his brother’s usually passive face still remains.

It isn’t until four years later that Atsumu feels the pull of love again. This love is as bright as the person who inspires it. Atsumu has always been intrigued by Hinata Shouyou since they met at Spring Interhigh his second year. When the sunshine boy himself joins the Black Jackals, that intrigue only grows. While in Hinata’s presence, he feels warm and happy. His feet feel light as he runs across the court. He sees a shine in his eyes when he looks in the mirror, and Atsumu thinks that this is what people talk about in those American movies. But then, he sees it.

During the Adlers vs Jackals match, he sees the passion flair in Hinata’s eyes - the burning desire, absolute devotion - it completely consumes him. It isn’t for volleyball at this moment, at least, not completely. No, it’s directed at the setter on the other side of the net.

_Oh._ He thinks, before sending Hinata a perfect toss that he slams onto the other side of the court with a resounding boom. Atsumu glances at Kageyama and witnesses that same look complete with a genuine smile. Complete and utter adoration for one Hinata Shouyou.

That night after staying out for an acceptable amount of time to celebrate their win, Atsumu is able to crawl into bed. He lays on his back with his arms out, just staring at the ceiling. It’s now that he cries. Not because he’s heartbroken. Not even over Hinata Shouyou. It’s because he yearns for a love like that. One that’s all-consuming and beautiful like those stupid Hallmark cards. Is that what Osamu and Suna feel? Bokuto and Akaashi? Meian and his wife? He truly wonders if he will ever experience it, let alone someone feel that way about him.

Anyone who really knows Atsumu (which is just Osamu), knows that deep down he’s just an insecure bastard. While most think he has a superiority complex (no denying that his volleyball skills are excellent, and he’s damn attractive), it’s just to cover up how inferior he feels as a person. He craves attention, but no one ever sticks around to give him what he really needs. Acting up and making an ass out of himself only serves to feed him the measly scraps of what he longs for. 

At the end of the day, Atsumu is lonely, and he hates that pitted feeling that lives in his stomach. He’s terrible at making and keeping friends, at least real friends. His shiny personality wins him large crowds of adoring fans but stick him in a room with a single person, and he’s an idiot. Really, all he can do is attempt to flirt, tell a lame joke, or obnoxiously talk about himself. 

The only people that have any long term place in his life are Osamu (he will never let that bastard get away) and Suna. His current teammates are stuck with him. Although he wants to believe that he can call Bokuto, Hinata, and Inunaki friends at this point. Hell, even Sakusa tolerates his presence now, and they’re _maybe_ borderline friends?

Regardless, Atsumu knows he’s hard to get along with at first, or well, harder. He has a certain brand of asshole that he snacks on in the morning, and it takes a few bites to get used to the aftertaste. No one except Osamu, and quite possibly Suna, have ever seen his squishy insides that he protects with that shiny, reflective exterior. But then again, no one else has really ever sat down and tried to get to know him on a more personal level. 

Atsumu is a damn good actor at portraying that his entire personality is what people see at face value. He just can’t stand the thought of being inferior or for his vulnerable side being rejected right to his face, even though he experiences it first hand every day to some degree.

He sighs, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. It’s alright. No one needs to know that Miya Atsumu has these kinds of thoughts. Most people probably think he doesn't have feelings anyway.

**\---**

On a Friday a few weeks after the Adlers match, the Black Jackals are having a typical evening practice.

“Omi-kun!” Atsumu sets the ball to the curly-headed spiker. 

Looking up, he witnesses Sakusa leap into the air using his powerful leg muscles. His breathtaking form seems to suspend midair like an angel of death waiting to expel his justice. With eyes completely focused on his target, Sakusa’s hand makes contact, sending the ball in a perfect straight with that wicked spin. When he lands, his curls bounce softly back into place.

The whole play probably takes seconds. But at that moment, it felt like time had slowed so Atsumu could see every single detail of the spiker beside him. Atsumu feels a lurch in his chest.

_Oh._ Atsumu is still looking at Sakusa, and he grins with a silent laugh. There are no doors opening with a field of flowers and sun shining down, nor is there an ocean current pulling him into the depths. It isn’t a conscious slow build over the years, nor does it come completely out of nowhere. This feels natural. Easy even. Obvious. But all the same, it completely consumes him.

Coach Foster signals for the end of practice, and the team rushes to the locker room to wash up. It’s typical that most of them go out to an izakaya on Friday nights after practice if no game is scheduled. Tonight everyone except Meian is headed out, as he has dinner plans with his wife. Even Sakusa, who has gotten much more tolerant with crowds, usually humors the team with a short appearance. Once everyone has showered and changed, they head out.

Atsumu sits at their boisterous table just enjoying the company of his teammates - of his friends. It isn’t often that he’s contemplative outside the safety of his apartment, but tonight is a special case. It’s not every day Atsumu realizes he’s in love. Sensing someone slide into the seat next to him, he doesn’t bother to turn. He’s still engrossed with watching Hinata and Bokuto squawk and hoot at each other like the damn birds they are while Akaashi looks entirely done with their shit.

“Is everything alright, Miya? I hate to say it, but your silence is rather concerning.”

Atsumu turns his head to see Sakusa looking at him with those dark eyes that hold an ounce of concern. “Aw, is Omi-Omi worried ‘bout me?” He grins and bats his eyelashes.

The concern vanishes as his eyes narrow, “Tch. Forget I asked.”

Atsumu chuckles and returns his attention to his team's antics. Akaashi now looks as if he’s attempting to will himself out of existence as Barnes, Adriah, and Inunaki have also joined in on the bird calls. 

After a short lull, Atsumu’s voice softens. “No, Omi-kun. I’m just,” he pauses and looks Sakusa in the eyes, “happy.” As the word leaves his lips, Atsumu smiles genuinely for the second time tonight.

Sakusa’s eyes briefly widen in surprise, but Atsumu can see the tell of a smile even with the mask obscuring his mouth. The corner of his eyes always crinkles slightly more on the left. 

“I’m actually thinkin’ that I’m gonna head back to the complex.” Atsumu stands up to leave.

“I’ll walk back with you. I’ve had enough crowds for tonight.” Sakusa follows his lead.

Their teammates wave them off with shouts of _“Good night!”_ , and the two begin their walk home. Atsumu remains quiet, walking with his hands in his pants pockets. Sakusa walks on his left, hands shoved in the pockets of his zip-up, and wearing his signature slouch. He notices Sakusa glancing at him every now and then when he thinks Atsumu isn't looking. 

Atsumu feels that lurch in his chest again at the thought of Sakusa being worried about him. _Omi-Omi really does care._ He’s probably grinning and more than likely looks like a damn lunatic. But when the street lights illuminate on Sakusa’s high cheekbones and obscure his eyes in shadow, making him look like some kind of ethereal being, how can he not?

They make their way into the building and up the stairs, still in companionable silence. Before Atsumu can unlock his door, Sakusa finally breaks it. “Miya, are you sure everything’s fine?”

Atsumu succeeds in unlocking his door and turns to a rather stiff looking Sakusa. “I’ve never been better.” He smiles again, which is probably really freaking Sakusa out by now. “Good night, Omi-kun.” Sakusa gives him a nod before continuing down the hall to his own apartment.

Sighing in contentment, Atsumu closes the door and turns on the lights. After hanging up his jacket and placing his shoes by the door, he lays his keys on the counter. _Tonight is a good night._ Atsumu thinks. He's finally found the love he’s yearned for! After all this time, he's finally found it! Atsumu feels like nothing can ruin this moment.

As he begins to walk to his bedroom, Atsumu feels a tickle bubble up in his chest and coughs a few times. The feeling only increases, and it’s becoming harder to breathe. When the coughing doesn’t stop, he increases his pace. His chest feels tight, and the coughs keep coming, feeling deeper and resonating in his lungs. 

Is he having an asthma attack? Atsumu hasn’t had one of those in years. Even though he thought he grew out of it, he keeps a rescue inhaler just in case. As his breathing becomes ragged, Atsumu digs around in his nightstand for the albuterol. It’s probably expired, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He takes a puff but can’t hold it in, coughing it out after only three seconds. 

Retreating to the bathroom, Atsumu leans over the sink, feeling like he’s coughing up some phlegm. With every cough forcing it up, it burns his throat. It’s so much more painful than he remembers. Finally, with a final hack, he’s able to expel the vile mucus from his airway.

Looking down to examine the damage, he gapes in horror at what he sees. Three delicate white petals sprinkled with blood sit in the sink, mocking him. Atsumu stares, his face paling. It's now that the dread starts to set in. Now the wonderful content feelings from earlier make sense. Atsumu just hadn’t seen the error of his ways yet. How dare he think everything is working in his favor for once. What a fool he is.

For his love…

“Fuck.”

...is unrequited.


	2. Hiding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atsumu does some research on Hanahaki disease and tries to keep the burden to himself. Meanwhile, Kiyoomi starts noticing something is amiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support! Also, I apologize for any errors.

Atsumu’s alarm goes off at 7:00 AM the next morning. After his little discovery last night, he forwent his usual bedtime ritual, blocked everything from his mind, and went straight to bed. Looking at the flower petals still in his bathroom sink, he curses Past Atsumu and his “This is a Future Atsumu problem” mindset. 

He honestly doesn’t know a lot about Hanahaki disease, it’s so rare. The only things most people know are that the person grows flowers in their lungs due to a deep, true unrequited love; coughs up petals, then full flowers; and then the poor sap dies. Oh fuck, is he going to die? He grabs the white petals and his laptop to do some research.

After an hour of reading, Atsumu leans back on the couch to absorb the new information. He makes a mental list of what he knows.

1\. He has stage 1 Hanahaki disease because he’s in unrequited love with Sakusa Kiyoomi.  
2\. The only cure is for the love to be requited. Doctors don’t know why.  
3\. There’s a risky surgery available, but it leaves the patient devoid of the capabilities to ever love again. Doctors don’t know why.  
4\. The type of flower produced is related to the person they represent. Doctors don’t know how or why.  
5\. Atsumu is not going to get the surgery. He knows why.

He is, however, curious about what kind of flower Sakusa Kiyoomi has him hacking up. Sitting back up straight, he grabs a petal off his coffee table to have another look. Examining the petals at first glance, he thinks they're cherry blossoms. But these don’t have the little points at the end, they’re rounded. After a few rather vague Google searches, he’s pretty sure he’s found it. Plum blossoms. Atsumu laughs.

After making a quick call to his doctor explaining that his asthma is flaring up, they’re able to squeeze him in at 11:15 AM. It’s almost ten already. Atsumu makes a mad dash to shower and get ready. 

His logic says that even though this isn’t asthma, it’s sort of the same principle, right? His airways are all inflamed, and he’s coughing up gunk. And even that tiny bit of albuterol did help a little. If he’s going to ride this out to the bitter end, he’s going to try whatever he can to help make it at least somewhat bearable.

Atsumu also refuses to change his routine. If loving Sakusa will end up killing him regardless, he’s at least going to enjoy the bastard’s company. He knows that spending time in close proximity to the object of his affections will progress the disease more quickly, but they're on the same team. It’s not like he can just run away. Well, he could, but what would that accomplish? 

Atsumu always gives things his all, and Osamu regularly calls him a stubborn asshole anyway. Speaking of which, he isn’t going to tell his brother or anyone for that matter. It’ll be fine. He’ll deal with it himself. He always does.

Getting out of the shower, he continues on this train of thought. After drying off, Atsumu figures he should probably blow dry his hair since it’s pretty cold outside. It is December, after all. He’s not trying to get a cold on top of this bullshit. However, as life seems to hate him as of late, that doesn’t happen. 

Atsumu is hit with a coughing fit and ends up knocking his hairdryer off the bathroom counter where it proceeds to smash onto the floor. A few more white petals are expelled, and he groans. The hairdryer only has a crack, and he prays it still works. Those prayers are in vain. Atsumu puts his face in his hands and inhales deeply before exhaling and dropping them. _God, I’m a mess._

Finding that there’s no time like the present to start his prolonged torture, he grabs everything he needs for his appointment and walks down the hall to Sakusa’s door. He gives it three knocks. After a moment, the door opens to reveal a displeased Sakusa.

“What, Miya?”

Atsumu offers him a grin, “Good mornin’ to ya, too, Omi-Omi! Can I use yer hairdryer?”

He still doesn’t offer any pleasantries, “What’s wrong with yours?”

“I may have broken it,” he replies daring to look sheepish.

Sakusa says nothing, his intense eyes bore into Atsumu’s soul. Finally, he sighs and opens the door wider, “You’re an idiot, Miya.”

“Thanks, Omi-kun!” He gives a wide grin and steps in. 

Having been inside Sakusa’s apartment space a surprising amount of other times, he already knows the rundown. Atsumu hangs up his coat, takes off his shoes, setting them neatly in the designated "shoe spot," and takes two pumps of the hand sanitizer Sakusa keeps on the little circular side table by the entrance. Turning back to Sakusa, he almost seems impressed. 

“It’s in the bottom drawer on the left. Put it back when you’re done,” is all he says before retreating to the couch where his gaming controller and headset lay.

After Atsumu’s hair is nice and fluffy, he makes sure to put the dryer away exactly as he found it, three wraps of the cord and all. In the living room, Sakusa has his headset back on and is playing some first-person shooter game. Atsumu squints at the TV like it’ll help him figure out which game it is. Halo? Call of Duty? Fortnight? They all look the fucking same. Still, Atsumu always plays when Sakusa asks him, even though he’s apparently a _paste-eater_. He likes to believe it’s said lovingly.

Atsumu snorts when Sakusa berates some kid over voice chat, gaining the dark-haired male’s attention. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to play?”

As much as Atsumu would love to sit next to Sakusa in all his glory that probably smells like the coconut shampoo he uses, he has a train to catch. “Sorry, Omi-kun, but I’ve got a thing.”

“A thing,” he deadpans.

“Ya know, a thing,” Atsumu supplies. “Like a doctor’s appointment.”

Sakusa is immediately alert. “Are you sick?! Why did you come over here?!”

Before Sakusa can get too worked up, Atsumu tries to explain. “It’s just a check-up, Omi-kun! I needta get an updated physical,” he uses hand motions to pacify the raven. “Ya know I’d never come near ya if I had somethin’ contagious.”

The younger man’s breathing goes back to normal, “You should’ve just said that! God, just leave.”

“Heh. Alright, Omi-Omi. God is leavin’ the buildin’,” he gives a shit-eating grin that’s met with a glare. “See ya at practice!” With that, he leaves, heading to his appointment.

**~~~***~~~***~~~**

It’s been about a week since Miya started acting weird. Kiyoomi doesn’t think anyone else has noticed, which begs the question of why _he_ has noticed. And it’s not like it’s even anything major. It’s just little things. Miya is still at the top of his game, he’s still obnoxious, and he still annoys the hell out of Kiyoomi. So what’s different? Everything.

Miya smiles more, and it’s not those fake ones that make Kiyoomi want to throttle him. He’ll have this soft expression, and Kiyoomi doesn’t know what to make of it. Then he’s been more quiet. Not when the whole team is around, but when they walk home together. And it’s a comfortable silence. Then to top it all off, he gave Kiyoomi a new bottle of the hand sanitizer that he likes because he noticed he was almost out when he was over on Saturday. He then offered to play Call of Duty (which he absolutely sucks at) with him. He never offers (because he has the accuracy of a toddler). What the fuck. Who is this man, and what has he done with Miya Atsumu? 

Like he said, it’s subtle, but something’s weird; and Kiyoomi hates it. He hates not knowing. He hates when something in his circuit is off-kilter. Kiyoomi feels like he’s going mad.

The next day at practice, Kiyoomi starts to get suspicious. Because now there’s tangible proof that something is wrong.

Kiyoomi has just spiked the ball, scoring a point, when Miya starts coughing like a damn chain smoker. The blonde’s eyes go wide in panic, and he beelines over to his bag on the bench. Miya sounds like he’s gasping for air as he digs through the duffel. At this point, everyone on the team, who has been staring wide-eyed, hurry to check on the setter. Miya plops himself on the bench and brings a… Is that an inhaler? Is Miya fucking Atsumu asthmatic?! What in the actual-

“Atsumu-san! Are you alright?” Hinata flutters around worriedly. The blonde just nods and waves him off.

“I didn’t know you had asthma, Tsum-Tsum,” Bokuto says as he approaches. _None of us did._ Kiyoomi thinks.

After a good ten more seconds, Miya exhales slowly and looks up to the spiker. “Yeah, I’ve had it since I was born, but I thought I grew outta it,” he shrugs.

Finally regaining his thoughts, Kiyoomi stalks toward the cluster of teammates. “Is this what your doctor’s appointment was about last week?” He sets Miya with a hard glare, leaving no room to escape his questions.

The setter’s eyes dart around to everyone except Kiyoomi, “Umm. Yeah.”

“I thought you said it was just for a physical.”

“I just didn’t wanna worry ya! It’s no biggie,” he gives one of those big fake smiles that Kiyoomi hates.

“Well, it obviously is if you’re going to have an attack in the middle of a game,” Kiyoomi presses. He notices the setter’s hands are shaking and calls attention to it. “Why are you all shaky? You couldn’t go back on the court like that, Miya.”

Miya seems to deflate at his words. “I know. Yer right. It just caught me off-guard. I’ll do better in the future to manage it better. And the shakin’ is just a side effect from the medicine.”

Coach Foster, who has been observing the scene, finally speaks, “Atsumu, you and I need to have a little chat.” Said man visibly grimaces. “Everyone else, back to practice.” He claps twice and that’s the end of the discussion.

As Kiyoomi takes his spot back on the court, he can’t help but glance over to Coach talking to a sulking Miya. God, he's an idiot. Why didn’t he tell anyone he has asthma? What if he needs help getting his inhaler? Can’t people die from that shit? 

Kiyoomi’s pissed that Miya even had the audacity to lie about his doctor’s appointment! Does he not trust anyone on the team enough to tell them? Kiyoomi knows they aren’t that close, but he thought- He doesn’t know what he thought.

It only gets worse from there. Every day, the blonde looks more and more exhausted. Dark circles are a constant shadow under his eyes, he doesn’t tease everyone like he usually does, and he’s using his inhaler like it’s a fucking oxygen supply. Kiyoomi is pretty sure that’s not how it’s supposed to be used. Also, Miya seems to be making an extra effort to talk and just be near him. And it’s not even to bug him, but that’s exactly why it’s pissing Kiyoomi off even more.

“Miya, what the fuck is your problem?” He snaps as they stretch before practice.

Miya furrows his brows. Kiyoomi wants to smooth out the wrinkle it makes. “What do ya mean, Omi-kun?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” The asshole has the audacity to still look confused. Kiyoomi gives an annoyed huff and rises from his toe touch, “You keep walking in here like a zombie that only feeds on albuterol and hover around me like a damn blowfly.”

“Oh,” Miya lets go of the leg he’s stretching. “Am I bothering ya, Omi-kun?” His voice is completely devoid of even a trace of teasing.

Kiyoomi is slightly taken aback but quickly settles his expression into a blank face. “You always bother me,” he deadpans. “See, this is what I mean. You never cared about my answer before.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout lil' ‘ol me, Omi-Omi,” he grins. “Let’s have a good practice so we give EJP Raijin the ass beatin’ they deserve tomorrow.”

Needless to say, Kiyoomi worries about it. He tries to tell himself that it’s just because their chances of winning drastically decrease without Miya. However, Kiyoomi knows it’s because he’s worried about the man who he has come to recognize as a friend.

The match is about to start, and Miya looks like death warmed over. In all honesty, he probably shouldn’t even be playing. The team keeps shooting the setter concerned glances. Bokuto and Hinata have repeatedly asked him if he’s sure he’s okay, but Miya smiles and insists he’s fine every time. No one is convinced by his performance.

It’s the middle of the third and potentially last set in favor of the Jackals. They’re looking at a sweep. With Miya rotating into position to serve, things are looking pretty good. He takes six steps back and slams down a perfect spike service ace. 

Kiyoomi turns from his spot in the front to give Miya a quick grin. They have a silent competition of who can get more service aces. It’s all in good fun, but they’re extremely competitive about it. The setter’s eyes widen slightly before he takes another six steps, going for another spike serve. However, instead of hitting the ball during his jump, it falls down in front of Miya as he grabs at his chest.

Oh fuck. It’s actually happening. Miya begins violently coughing and sinks down to his knees. Surging into action he meets Hinata’s panicked eyes, “Shouyou, get his inhaler!” 

The smaller man nods, dashing off the court. Whistles are blowing, the crowd is panicking, the middle blocker from Raijin is ducking under the net, and Kiyoomi can no longer hear Miya hacking from behind him. He turns back to Miya who is, in fact, no longer coughing. Instead, he appears to be choking, his hands in the universal sign. There are small splatters of blood on the floor, and Kiyoomi is helpless. All he can do is stand there and watch the events unfold around him. It’s like his feet are glued to the floor.

The Raijin middle blocker kneels by Miya’s side now. He’s shouting something, but Kiyoomi can only hear the blood rushing in his ears. He watches as Miya reaches into his mouth in an attempt to get something out of his throat, even though there shouldn’t be anything there. Finally, with a cough that looks extremely forced and painful, something emerges from the blonde’s mouth.

What Kiyoomi is looking at doesn’t make any sense, but then again, nothing makes sense to Kiyoomi at the moment. There’s blood. It’s on the floor, on Miya’s face, on the middle blocker, and on the flowers. _Flowers._ Flowers that came out of Miya Atsumu’s mouth. Kiyoomi stares. He can’t move. He can’t breathe. 

The setter collapses and is caught by that same middle blocker. The medics have finally arrived and put him on a stretcher. The lanky middle blocker stands up. He has blood splattered all over his jersey and is wearing the most emotion Kiyoomi’s ever seen the other man express. Kiyoomi barely notices as Miya Osamu runs onto the court, still in his Onigiri Miya uniform. He, too, looks panicked. The two follow the medics out.

Kiyoomi is still staring. Now it’s at the place Atsumu had once occupied just moments ago. The flowers are still there. Bokuto gently places a hand on Kiyoomi’s shoulder, and he jumps in response. His mind finally joins the present as all Kiyoomi’s senses rush back to him. With all the evidence laid in front of him, there’s only one terrible conclusion to be drawn. Atsumu has Hanahaki disease.


	3. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team goes to the hospital. Sakusa confronts Atsumu about the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks so much for the support. I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. It's a bit longer and really dialog heavy, so it was difficult to convey exactly what I wanted. I hope you all enjoy!

The rest of the match is canceled, and the entire Black Jackals team (and Akaashi) currently sit in the hospital waiting room. The receptionist told them that Miya’s family has requested no visitors at this time. After wiping it down, Kiyoomi sits in a seat with Hinata and Bokuto quietly sitting on either side of him. Hinata plays with his fingers in his lap and Bokuto rests his head on Akaashi’s shoulder. Kiyoomi just stares at the floor. He can feel his phone buzzing in his pocket. It’s probably Motoya. As much as it likely makes him an asshole, Kiyoomi isn’t in the mood to deal with his cousin right now. It’ll only stress him out more.

He hates hospitals. It’s where the sick congregate. Hospital-acquired infections are common for a reason. But right now, Kiyoomi isn’t thinking about that. He has so many questions. 

He’s never known anyone with Hanahaki disease before, it’s rare for a reason. The afflicted has to be capable of feeling an emotion so _intense_ and _pure_ in order for the flowers to take root in the first place. It’s a disease about that once in a lifetime love, but only one person feels it. 

Who knew that Miya could feel something like that so intensely? And who’s the person that caused it? How long has this been going on?

Hinata’s phone goes off, and he makes a disgruntled noise at whatever the message says, catching Bokuto’s attention. “What is it Shou-kun?”

“Tobio texted me this,” he passes his phone to the owl haired man.

Bokuto intensely reads and scrolls through whatever it is with Akaashi looking over his shoulder. The raven scoffs, “Of course the press is already all over this.” _Fucking parasites._

Kiyoomi glares at the phone, “What are they saying?”

“Right now it’s mainly just shock, but they’re already speculating on the person that could be causing it.”

“Poor Tsum-Tsum. I can’t imagine what he’s been going through. I wish he would have told us,” Bokuto says, handing Hinata his phone back.

Hinata taps away on the screen, “Twitter is on fire. Fans are banding together to find the person. It’s like they’re about to riot.” He sighs deeply, “I don’t think this is what Atsumu-san would want.”

Kiyoomi nods in agreement. Although, he does wish he knew who’s causing the setter so much pain. Hanahaki has to be painful. It looks painful. He shivers remembering all the blood.

“Do you think we’ll get to see him tonight?” Hinata asks.

“I’ll text Osamu and let him know the team is here. He might let you guys in,” Akaashi pulls out his phone.

While they wait for a reply, the four revert back to solemn silence. Bokuto perks up when a phone dings. They all watch Akaashi as he reads Osamu’s reply.

“He said they’re still running tests, so it might be better to see him tomorrow. But if anyone is still here when they finish, they can see him,” Akaashi relays.

Bokuto and Hinata noticeably deflate. They let the rest of the team know the news, and as hours pass, people begin to trickle out. The time is now approaching eleven o’clock and only Bokuto, Akaashi, Hinata, and Kiyoomi remain. 

Akaashi looks like he’ll pass out any moment, which is to be expected considering the man worked all day, then rode the train all the way here from Tokyo. He must be mentally and physically exhausted. Though Kiyoomi suspects he along with Bokuto and Hinata are the same with the dark circles under their eyes. They should all really go home for the night.

“Bokuto, you should take Akaashi home,” Kiyoomi says.

Akaashi wearily waves him off, “No, I’m fine.”

“He’s right Keiji. We can come back first thing tomorrow,” Bokuto pulls his stubborn boyfriend up to his feet. “Are you two coming, too?”

Kiyoomi, defying all sense of logic, shakes his head, “I’m going to stay just a bit longer.”

Hinata looks conflicted between him and Bokuto, “I don’t want Atsumu-san to think we all abandoned him.”

“He won’t. I’m sure Osamu told him the team was here. You can come with us in the morning,” Akaashi reassures. Hinata shakily nods and joins the couple.

“Are you sure, Omi-kun?” Bokuto asks one more time. Kiyoomi nods and watches the other three trudge through the hospital doors leaving him by himself.

Kiyoomi is suddenly woken when someone sits down next to him. He’s shocked he fell asleep. He has no idea how much time has passed. Turning, he sees the middle blocker that he finally remembers is named Suna Rintarou with a passive expression.

“So you’re still here, huh?” he says flatly. Kiyoomi only nods, looking for a clock to find it past one in the morning. “If you want to see him, you can come back.” He stands, and Kiyoomi follows on stiff legs.

As they head to Miya’s room, it’s dead quiet. The entire hospital has a hushed presence about it. Lights are turned down, staff is sparse in the halls, doors to rooms are closed, and nothing but the beeping of machines is heard. Their footsteps disturb the atmosphere the shadows cast on the white walls create.

When they enter the room, Osamu looks up with his tired, red-rimmed eyes. His puffy face wears visible tear tracts. Miya looks much the same, though he seems to have a resigned expression rather than forlorn like his brother. He’s staring at the ceiling, refusing to make eye contact with anyone in the room.

“Sakusa,” he greets, voice rough. Rin and I were ‘bout ta leave. Just wanted to see if anyone was still here first. We’ll be back tomorrow when he’s ready for discharge.” He walks to his brother’s bedside. “Please just think about it,” he squeezes Atsumu’s arm before going to Suna’s side. “He won’t tell me anythin’,” he tells Kiyoomi. “If he tells ya anythin’ please- please let me know.” Kiyoomi nods. “Good night.” With that, Suna and Osamu take their leave, shutting the door behind them.

Miya is still avoiding any interaction, so Kiyoomi pulls up a chair next to his bed. Looking at his face, it seems grey and almost gaunt. Far from the man full of color and life Kiyoomi is used to seeing. He has so many questions. He isn’t even sure if he feels sad, upset, or angry with the situation. It’s just all of these emotions swirling in his stomach like some sort of sordid concoction.

Deciding to start gently, Kiyoomi says, “Miya.” He waits a few seconds and gets no response. “Miya, I know you haven’t suddenly gone deaf.” Still nothing. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, exhaling heavily before pulling his mask down. “Look at me, Atsumu.” That finally gets the response of the blonde slowly turning his head to face Kiyoomi.

“Omi-kun,” his voice is so quiet Kiyoomi almost misses it. “Ya stayed.”

“I fell asleep in that disgusting waiting room.” Miya’s mouth pulls up slightly at one corner.

“I’m glad yer here.” His voice is soft, too soft.

“What’s going on, Miya?” Kiyoomi asks, ignoring his comment.

“Oh I see, back to last names now that ya got what ya want,” he teases, the pulled-up mouth remaining before suddenly dropping. “I have Hanahaki disease.”

The raven scowls, “No shit. I mean why did you lie about all that asthma stuff? Why didn’t you tell anyone the truth?”

“I do actually have asthma,” he deflects the real question and his eyes once again.

“But you knew it was Hanahaki, not asthma. Why did you lie?” Why did you lie to _me_ , he wants to ask.

“It was just easier. I didn’t want people askin’ questions.”

“But we aren’t just ‘people,’ we’re your friends.” Kiyoomi’s voice drops to almost a whisper, “I thought I was your friend.”

Atsumu wears a surprised expression with wide eyes, “Ya did?”

Ouch, that hurts. Kiyoomi knows he’s not anyone’s first choice for a friend. He’s used to being the weird kid that everyone avoids. He’s standoffish, blunt, borderline rude, a mysophobe, hates most people- okay he’s a hard person to get along with, fine. But he really thought he was doing better. Kiyoomi isn’t super outgoing like Atsumu, but he really thought the blonde thought of him as a friend.

Concealing the hurt, he hardens his expression, “Really, Miya? Have you only been spending time with me as some sad why to distract yourself?”

“What? No, of course not! That’s not what I-”

Kiyoomi cuts him off, not wanting to hear his excuses and continues, “And you keep overexerting yourself. Is that a distraction, too? I may not know much about the disease, but I know it affects the lungs. Therefore, physical exertion is the last thing you should be doing. Are you trying to kill yourself?” The anger raising from his stomach is barely restrained at this point.

Atsumu drops his eyes and sighs, “I’m gonna die anyway, so I might as well do what I love.”

That’s the tipping point. Kiyoomi yells, “What the fuck, Miya? Just confess then, you stupid bastard! Maybe they’ll accept it!”

Atsumu sighs again, which is starting to piss him off even more. “That’s not how it works, Omi-kun. If they felt the same way, I wouldn’t have this disease. So there’s no reason to confess and put this burden on ‘em.”

“Well, you can get the surgery then,” Kiyoomi presses.

Atsumu looks at him like he’s grown two heads, “No way! Do ya know what it does to ya?!”

“It removes the flowers and saves your life,” he states matter of fact through gritted teeth.

“Maybe, if ya happen to live through it. The survival rate is less than 20%, and that’s already from a small group of people. Ya know how hard it is to remove literal roots from all those lil’ tube things in the lungs? And if ya live, ya can’t feel love anymore. I refuse to live like that,” he crosses his arms and frowns hard at his lap. Atsumu still refuses to raise his voice, maybe because he can’t.

Kiyoomi’s anger drops like a rock, feeling fear for the first time since he entered the room. There has to be another way. Maybe if he just knew who it was he could help.

“Who is it? Who is this person that’s killing you?” Kiyoomi’s voice is a lot more unsteady than he thought it would be.

Again with the sighing. “It doesn’t matter beca-”

With his emotions going haywire, Kiyoomi stands from his chair and raises his voice again, “Like hell it doesn’t matter! Maybe they don’t know how they feel? Maybe you can get them to fall in love with you!” 

Kiyoomi knows he’s projecting himself on this person because he himself doesn’t know how to feel right now. But it’s still true. Just because this person doesn’t love Atsumu now doesn’t mean they can’t. His hands are shaking. Kiyoomi isn’t sure if it’s from how tense he is, or if it’s something else.

“Omi-kun, calm down before that scary nurse comes back in here!” Atsumu whisper-shouts. Kiyoomi sits back in his chair, trying to calm himself. The setter continues when he sees his shoulders relax. His voice is resigned, “I don’t think that’s possible. Even if they’re capable of lovin’ me, I don’t have enough time left.”

Kiyoomi pauses. What? “What do you mean?”

“My disease has already progressed to stage III. When it reaches stage IV, one of my episodes will end up asphyxiatin’ me. Most don't live past two flare-ups in stage IV.”

“So you're just… giving up?” The Atsumu he knows would never give up.

“No, of course not. I'm seein’ this through to the end. I wanna spend my last days playin’ volleyball and spendin’ time with my friends.”

“What about the person you're in love with?”

“Them, too.” A tiny smile plays on his lips, “They are my friend after all.”

“You really aren't going to tell them?” Kiyoomi feels defeated. Even though Atsumu said he’s not giving up, it still feels like he is.

“Maybe I'll write ‘em a letter for after I'm gone.”

“You're so dramatic,” Kiyoomi rolls his eyes.

The blonde smirks, “That’s just my style.” For the first time that night, there’s a comfortable silence between the two. Kiyoomi isn’t sure how much time passes before Atsumu speaks again, “As much as I enjoy the company, ya should really get some sleep.”

“Probably,” Kiyoomi eyes the exhausted man in the hospital bed. “You should, too. You look like shit.”

“Sheesh, Omi-Omi, ya really know how to flatter a guy.” There’s that stupid grin. “Will ya come back tomorrow? I’ll be gettin’ discharged.”

“Sure.” Maybe he can tag along with Osamu. He has to let the man know what Atsumu said anyway.

“Ya promise?” Atsumu has a strange look in his eyes. Kiyoomi can’t quite decipher it, but it might be because he’s so damn tired.

“I promise.”

Leaving a hospital at three in the morning is a surreal experience. It’s nothing Kiyoomi wants a repeat of. Taking out his phone and calling a cab, he ignores all the missed calls and text messages he has. That’s something he’ll deal with tomorrow. He has Osamu’s number and wonders if he should text him tonight. Shrugging to himself, Kiyoomi sends him a message saying he’ll come by the restaurant if it’s open tomorrow. He hopes it doesn’t wake Osamu, but somehow he doubts the other man is asleep.

On the way home, the cab driver doesn’t try to engage in menial small talk, which Kiyoomi is thankful for. Whether that’s because it’s three in the morning; he was picked up from a hospital; or the fact that he probably looks super sketchy with his medical mask, hood up, and hands in his pockets, he’s not sure. Kiyoomi’s busy trying to digest all his thoughts and only dares lean his head against the window because his hood is blocking any skin contact. Small rain droplets trickle against the glass. _Wow,_ he thinks. _What a shitty end to an all-round fucking awful day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are halfway through! Stay tuned.


	4. Comprehension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakusa, Osamu, and Suna have a discussion. Atsumu is discharged from the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been tense, so here are some soft boys when we switch back to Atsumu's point of view.

When Kiyoomi wakes, it’s still raining outside. It pours down in steady sheets from the dreary, grey sky. He isn’t ready to start the day. Starting the day means he has to think about Miya Atsumu still in his hospital bed and everything that entails. Kiyoomi blindly reaches over to his nightstand and feels around for his phone. He’s going to accomplish as much as he can without moving from this position.

First, he checks to see if Osamu has replied to him. Opening his messages reveals several unread ones sitting in his inbox. It makes him want to immediately set his phone back down and ignore everything. Finding the message he’s looking for, he reads Osamu’s reply. 

Onigiri Miya is closed today, which isn’t surprising. He wants Kiyoomi to come by at eleven to talk, and he’ll provide lunch. He messages back an affirmative. Then he spends time going through and replying to anyone that deserves an answer. This only includes any teammates, Motoya, and Wakatoshi. Everyone else can fuck right off.

Kiyoomi knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help it and taps on his Twitter app. Regret is instantaneous. He’s been tagged, mentioned, and tweeted at more in the last twelve hours than probably his entire life. This is just a straight dumpster fire. He immediately taps the Home button, closing the app.

He’d have to wear something inconspicuous today. If someone sees him, more people will eventually crawl to his location. Fans and press are probably dying for a comment. Like cockroaches, where one is, thirty more are around laying in wait. Just imagining getting swarmed by a bunch of nosy people is already throwing Kiyoomi into shutdown mode.

Finally gaining the will to face the day, he pulls himself from his bed. Kiyoomi decides it’d behoove him to do some research on Hanahaki disease and heads for his laptop. Today is going to be a long-ass day.

Arriving at Onigiri Miya, the closed sign is in place, but the door is unlocked for him. Osamu and Suna are sitting at the counter talking quietly. Upon his entrance, Osamu hops up and grabs some cleaner from behind the counter to wipe down a spot for Kiyoomi, which is nice, but extremely unexpected. He looks much more composed than last night.

“‘Tsumu has told me ‘bout yer standards,” the man answers Kiyoomi’s unasked question. He nods in thanks, claiming the seat prepared for him. “We’re goin’ up to the hospital around two to get him. Docs needta give us some discharge info or somethin’. So shall we get started?”

The three men get to the matter at hand and each relay with what they know. Each conclusion they come to are all fairly grim. They’re desperate to find a way to save Atsumu’s life, and the only thing they can come up with all depends on the person he’s in love with.

“Between the three of us, I know we can figure it out,” Suna says. “We aren’t two foxes and a weasel for nothing. ‘Samu, I know you had a hunch.”

He nods, “Yes, but I don’t wanna put it out there ‘til we lay all the facts down.” Suna shrugs unconcernedly. “So we know he considers this person a friend, which actually helps a ton.”

Kiyoomi raises an eyebrow, “Does it?” He thought Atsumu considered lots of people friends.

“It may be surprisin’, but he actually doesn’t have many friends. I mean, how many people do ya see him hangin’ out with?”

Thinking about it, the only people he’s ever seen Atsumu with is the team, Osamu, and Suna. He’s never seen or heard of the setter bringing anyone back to the complex.

“Yeah, his shit personality keeps most people away,” Suna adds.

Osamu lightly jabs him in the side with his elbow, “Not the time, but yer not wrong.” He turns to Kiyoomi. “And from the team, he spends most of his time with ya, Bokuto, and Hinata.”

“So you’re saying it’s either Bokuto, Hinata, Suna, or me,” Kiyoomi states rather than asks. Osamu nods.

“Oh, hell no! It’d better not be me,” Suna manages a look of disgust with genuine worry.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not ya,” Osamu rests his hand on Suna’s shoulder. “He got over that in high school.”

Suna chokes on his water, “Excuse me?!” He manages to say through his hacking.

“Yer excused.”

“I’m also pretty sure it’s not Bokuto,” Kiyoomi interjects. Both others nod in agreement. Now it's just down to him and Hinata. The shorter man is in a relationship with Kageyama Tobio, which could be why Atsumu said he doesn’t think the love being returned is possible. It’s obvious the two are absolutely gone for each other.

While they sit in silent contemplation, Osamu moves to begin preparing some onigiri. Kiyoomi can feel his anxiety creeping upon him. This is approaching dangerous territory. Him or Hinata. It could easily be Hinata. The man has a bright energy and a magnetic presence that no one can seem to ignore. His personality is positive and would compliment Atsumu, but he’s with Kageyama.

And then there’s Kiyoomi. Why would it be Kiyoomi? He may be considered attractive conventionally, but his personality is much to be desired according to most. Would he be different towards someone he’s romantically involved with? Kiyoomi’s never been in love. He’s never even been in a serious relationship before. It’s honestly not high on his priority list. It’s like he’s had on blinders his whole life, only focusing on volleyball. If he takes them off, is it something he would actually like? Kiyoomi can admit that, yes, Atsumu is attractive. And he’s actually not terrible to be around. Can he- no he’s getting ahead of himself. It isn’t confirmed who Atsumu loves. There’s one more thing that can potentially confirm who it is.

Kiyoomi takes off his face mask to eat the delicious-looking onigiri Osamu places in front of him. 

“Ya look like yer thinkin’ awful hard ‘bout somethin’ there. Wanna share with the class?” Osamu takes his own seat next to Suna, who is already devouring his food.

“I was doing some research on Hanahaki before I came here this morning, and it said something about how the flowers the person produces are a symbol of who they’re for. Do you know what kind of flowers Atsumu has?” Kiyoomi asks.

“He wouldn’t tell me. But I have somethin’. Thanks for remindin’ me,” Osamu pushes up from the counter and heads for the back room. He comes back with delicate white flowers in his hand. “I went to ‘Tsumu’s place this mornin’ to do some diggin’. Found these in the trash.” He holds them out for Kiyoomi to see.

Kiyoomi carefully picks one up, examining it. It’s pretty with its five white petals and abundant filaments with yellow anthers. It resembles a cherry blossom, but it’s definitely different. “Do you know what it is?”

Osamu nods, “It’s a plum blossom.” The spiker freezes. Osamu continues on unfazed, “White symbolizes purity and cleanliness.” He looks straight at Kiyoomi.

Kiyoomi slaps a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide in horror. He’s killing Miya Atsumu.

**~~~***~~~***~~~**

Atsumu is bored. And cold. All he has to wear is the flimsy hospital clothes or his volleyball uniform that he came here in. He really hopes Osamu brings him something else. He doesn’t have his phone in order to contact him, and glancing at the clock every few minutes isn’t suddenly summoning his brother, much to his disappointment. Speaking of disappointment, Sakusa hasn’t come to see him. He promised. Atsumu tries not to pout, but a frown still makes its way onto his face.

Everything is going to be different now. He doubts Coach Foster will let him play, but maybe he can still join in on practices. It’s not like he’s an invalid! So maybe his lungs are fucked, but let the dying man do what he wants. Atsumu groans thinking about how everyone is probably going to treat him differently, too. This is exactly why he kept it to himself. Atsumu doesn’t want anyone’s pity, he just wants to hang out with his friends. Especially Kiyoomi.

The last weeks Atsumu has spent with Sakusa have been some of the best of his life. Minus the whole flower thing. He’s been trying to get to know Sakusa on a deeper level, and every time he finds something new about the man; he swears he falls a little more in love. 

Atsumu prides himself on being an observant person. As a setter, it’s important to know how to bring out the best in his spikers after all. He’s always paid attention to Sakusa, but now that he knows what this feeling in his chest is, he notices even the smallest details.

Like how he makes strange noises when he’s really into the video game he’s playing; how he has to stop the microwave a second before it’s done because he hates the beeping sound; how he’s insanely good at memorizing numbers and patterns; how when he’s relaxed, the right side of his mouth will curve up in a half-smile; when he laughs he has dimples _Dimples!_ ; when he’s deep in thought, his nose scrunches and makes a slight wrinkle between his eyes- Atsumu could go on.

He may seem like a teenage schoolgirl, but all Atsumu really wants is to curl up in Sakusa’s strong arms and rest his head in the crook of the raven’s neck. Atsumu wants to feel the rise and fall of each breath and hear the beat of his heart, maybe fall asleep like that. But in this harsh reality, Atsumu can only dream. Plus, he would never dare initiate contact with the man unless he gives permission; he respects Sakusa’s boundaries.

A coughing fit wracks his body. He’s able to pull out a few flowers with, thankfully, little difficulty. Now he has blood all over his hands, though. Hauling himself from the hospital bed to the little attached bathroom, he washes up the mess. His throat and lungs hurt like a bitch, but that’s just his life now. Deciding to change up the scenery, he plops down in a chair by the window. At least, it’s stopped raining.

A knock on the door interrupts his thoughts, and he sees Osamu and Suna enter followed by Sakusa. Atsumu immediately perks up. “Y’all are finally here! And ya brought Omi-Omi!” A smile stretches across his face.

“I said I’d come today didn’t I?” Sakusa raises an eyebrow.

Before Atsumu can say anything, Osamu shoves a backpack at him. “I brought ya somethin’ to change into. Yer phone is in there, too.”

“Oh thank God,” he jumps up from the chair “I was freezin’ my ass off! And I was so bored. Shou-kun, Bokkun, and Akaashi came this mornin’, but that was ages ago.” He shamelessly changes his clothes as he talks. “And I’m starvin’! Don’t even get me started on the food. ‘Samu, even ya wouldn’t eat it.”

Before he can complain any more, the doctor comes in with the last of his discharge papers. He’s given prescriptions for some medication that’s supposed to help relieve unpleasant symptoms, information on the surgery available, and is advised to have someone check in on him at least once a day. It surprises Atsumu when Sakusa says that he will.

The four make their way down to the lobby where the front entrance is. The cab should be there in a few minutes. However, the sight that greets them through the glass doors is a crowd of fans and press being prevented entry by hospital security.

“One of us must have been recognized,” Sakusa says shrugging off his jacket and then the baggy white hoodie he’s wearing. He throws it at Atsumu’s face. “Put that on and put the hood up.”

Atsumu is slightly dumbfounded but does what he’s told. He knows Sakusa likes his clothes loose because he hates feeling constricted. So the hoodie makes him feel small. Atsumu, a 183 cm man, small. Sakusa’s scent surrounds him, and he tries to subtly breathe in more of it. Really, when else would he get the chance?

As they start their trek through the crowd, the three form a barrier around Atsumu. Sakusa takes the lead, being the tallest. This again surprises Atsumu; Sakusa hates crowds. However, the raven-haired man keeps a stoic, determined face.

“Atsumu-san, is it true you are suffering from Hanahaki disease?”

“Sakusa-san, how do you feel about the accusations made against you?”

“Is it true you’re having an affair with your own twin’s lover?”

“Atsumu! We love you!” 

“We’ll find the bitch!”

“Will you still be able to play volleyball?”

“They don’t deserve your love!”

“How will this affect your career going forward?”

Atsumu keeps his head down, letting the hood cover his face in shadow. This is only the beginning. Why did it have to happen in the middle of a televised game? He bumps into Sakusa’s back when the taller man stops. A particularly persistent journalist blocks the way. “Can we get a comment, Atsu-”

Sakusa cuts him off, “Can’t you people take a hint? Back off!” Atsumu can tell that the man is at the end of his rope. This must be making him seriously anxious. It warms Atsumu’s heart that the raven is trying to protect him even through his anxiety. Sakusa is able to shove past the reporter, allowing the four men to finally make it to their cab and cram inside.

Atsumu knows that he probably needs to make a statement, but that’s what PR is for, right? To be honest, he didn’t even really think about how the media and fans would react. Like what the fuck were some of those questions?

The two Jackals players are dropped off at their complex. Osamu says he’ll get Atsumu’s prescriptions and tells him to answer his calls and not be an asshole before the blonde is even able to vacate the vehicle. Atsumu just rolls his eyes and waves his brother and Suna goodbye.

“I have the ingredients to make curry rice,” Sakusa suddenly says when they reach their floor.

“What’re ya sayin’, Omi-kun?”

“I thought you were hungry.”

Atsumu tries not to grin, but it just can’t be helped. “Are ya offerin’ to make me a home-cooked meal?”

The other man just gives him a neutral look, “I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t have that intention.”

Atsumu can feel his face brighten. Sakusa’s cooking is the best! Don’t tell Osamu. “Well, what’re we waitin’ for?! I’ll even cut the onions for ya! I know ya hate how they make yer eyes water.” He increases his pace until he is practically vibrating in front of the raven’s door.

Sakusa chuckles softly. “Go take a shower first. You’re not touching anything in my home with hospital funk all over you.” Atsumu gives him a pout. However, Sakusa just shakes his head. “No. Go,” he points to the blonde’s own door. “I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.” The setter gives a dramatic sigh before following orders.

After he’s squeaky clean, Atsumu returns once again wearing Sakusa’s big hoodie to find the door is indeed unlocked for him. He half expected Sakusa to be fucking with him. After taking the necessary Omi-approved sanitization steps, Atsumu joins the man in the kitchen.

He gets right to slicing up the onions and manages to only sniffle once. They chat casually, and Atsumu keeps wondering if Sakusa is going to bring up his disease. He knows it’s a conversation they’re going to have to have. But right now he’s enjoying the domestic atmosphere. They work in tandem, with Atsumu chopping up the potatoes when Sakusa finishes peeling them. He’s really over the moon at something so simple.

Once they finish their meal, Sakusa puts away leftovers while Atsumu gets started on washing the dishes. The taller man doesn’t trust the dishwasher to do an appropriate job, so they all must be done by hand. Even though Sakusa has to wear those yellow cleaning gloves because _“I feel my soul leave my body when I touch wet food.”_ The blonde smiles fondly. The gloves are atrocious, but Sakusa makes them cute.

The raven steps by his side to start drying. His eyes narrow in on Atsumu’s lips. The blonde can feel his heart start thundering in his chest and his face heats up. 

“God, Miya, you make such a mess,” Sakusa wipes something off the corner of his mouth with his thumb. Atsumu’s pretty sure he’s stopped breathing, and his face must be bright red. _Omi touched me! On my face!_ “What?” Sakusa smirks, acting like he doesn’t know what he did to Atsumu’s heart. He probably doesn’t

With full bellies, they migrate to the couch. He notices that Sakusa sits in the middle rather than on the far side; which is odd, but he’s not going to complain.

“So what do you want to do?” Sakusa asks.

Atsumu tilts his head slightly, “Can I just watch ya play somethin’, Omi? I like watchin’ ya.”

The other man looks at him for a long moment before answering, “Sure. How about Breath of the Wild? I know you like those kinds of games more.” Sakusa stands to set up the game.

“Wait, is that my Switch?” Atsumu asks, seeing the familiar console being hooked up.

“Yes. You left it here, dumbass.”

“Oh, that’s right.” He had gotten his ass thoroughly handed to him in Mario Kart and sulked home without his console.

Atsumu grabs the throw blanket neatly folded over the couch to curl up with. Even wearing Sakusa’s hoodie (that the other has still failed to mention), he’s cold. He wonders if it’s some side effect of failing lungs. Daring to be bold, he scoots closer to Sakusa so that their arms are barely touching. When the other doesn’t flinch away, Atsumu settles in to watch Link save Hyrule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone know why I picked plum blossoms to represent Kiyoomi?
> 
> Also, for anyone who cares or is curious about plant anatomy: Filaments are the long parts that an anther (where the pollen is) sits on. Together they make up a stamen, which is the male reproductive part of a flower. A pistil is in the middle and is composed of several parts making up the female reproductive part of a flower.


	5. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atsumu's health begins to decline and Kiyoomi needs to say something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First I'd like to say, over 100 Kudos?! You guys are amazing! Thank you so much T-T I appreciate each and every comment I get.  
> Second, I'd like to apologize for the delay in getting this chapter posted.  
> Third, I'd like to apologize to Atsumu. You don't deserve this.

Ever since coming home from the hospital, life has been...well, Atsumu doesn’t want to say it’s exactly been _normal_. He still goes to practice every day even though it’s a toss-up if Coach Foster lets him participate. After practice, he walks back to the complex with the guys who live there and spends his evening in the company of at least one of them. 

None of his teammates have treated him too different from before, to which Atsumu is extremely grateful for. He may see them give worried looks on occasion and check up on him a bit excessively, but it’s honestly nowhere near as bad as Atsumu had anticipated. Osamu calls once a day now; which is weird, but it actually makes him happy. It’s nice to know that people really care about him. That’s something Atsumu is never sure he’s ever really had before.

The worst thing to happen so far is one day after practice Sakusa was practically assaulted by a group of fans. Atsumu had stayed behind at the gym to talk to Coach, so Sakusa had been walking back alone. When he had arrived on the scene, Atsumu was appalled. A group of five people had him boxed in against a wall. Sakusa looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Atsumu was able to get the people to leave, but the spiker wouldn’t tell him what they wanted. If he thought that he was protecting Atsumu, then he’s dead wrong. This is Atsumu’s problem, and he needs to take care of it.

After that incident, he decided it was necessary to make a public announcement. Atsumu explained what’s going on with as few details as possible and asked that his teammates, friends, and family not be accosted. Seriously, why are people so crazy?

As for the man himself, Atsumu has been spending a lot of time with him. He knows that Sakusa is acting differently - actually it’s not that. He’s just including Atsumu into his life more, being more open. The blonde isn’t sure if this change is completely due to his Hanahaki coming to light. He hopes it isn’t. Even before he horked flowers on national television, Sakusa seemed to be opening up more to him. Now it’s just at a less cautious pace. Or so it seems. Atsumu is sure it isn’t pity, he knows how Sakusa feels about that particular subject. Either way, he’s not going to take it for granted.

Thankfully he’s not had another episode in front of anyone. While it’s absolutely the worst pain he’s felt in his entire life, Atsumu doesn’t want to subject anyone to the horrific sight he surely makes. Not that comfort afterward would be unwelcome, it’s just part of the beast. The medicines do help to a degree, but there’s not really much anyone can do. Atsumu knows deep down that the disease is progressing, though he doesn’t think it’s reached stage IV yet. He has more time. He hopes he has more time.

Atsumu has good and bad days, and today just so happens to be a good one. He’s able to participate a bit at practice and joke around like he used to. The team is finishing up in the locker room when Bokuto announces that he’s meeting Akaashi at Onigiri Miya if anyone wants to join them. Atsumu, Sakusa, and Hinata take up his offer.

He’s sitting at a table with everyone, except Sakusa’s chair is empty. Said man is at the counter conversing with his twin. Atsumu squints his eyes at the pair, “What do ya think they’re talkin’ ‘bout?”

Akaashi glances over briefly, “Probably you.”

“Yeah, but what ‘bout me? Why’re they bein’ so hush, hush?”

“Don’t worry, Tsum-Tsum,” Bokuto reaches over the table to pat him on the shoulder. “I’m sure it’s nothing bad.”

“I just don’t want ‘Samu poisonin’ Omi-kun’s mind,” he says, continuing to watch his brother and the object of his affections.

“With as much time as you and Omi-san have been spending together lately, I doubt anything Osamu-san says is going to scare him away,” Hinata adds.

Atsumu turns his narrowed eyes to the ginger, “What’s that s’posed to mean?”

Hinata just shrugs with a small smile on his face. While he’s distracted trying to interpret the small spiker’s meaning, Sakusa and Osamu make their way over carrying everyone’s order. The former carries his own and Atsumu’s onigiri, which he sets in front of the setter.

“Thanks, Omi-kun!” He grins up at the taller man, who smiles slightly back at him. Atsumu can’t help it when his heart leaps. Sakusa is just so stupidly beautiful; it’s bad for his heart. And lungs. _Ha._ He’s hilarious.

After dinner, they all head to the complex. Bokuto and Akaashi retreat to the former’s room, while Hinata darts to his own to finish packing. He’s going home to Miyagi for an extended weekend. This leaves Atsumu loitering in the hallway with Sakusa.

“Hey, Omi-kun, I recorded the Red Falcons and Hornets game if ya wanna watch it with me,” Atsumu offers. He’s had a good day, but he doesn’t feel like being alone just yet. “I just cleaned last night, too!”

The other man thankfully takes him up on it. “Sure, but I’ll be the judge of your cleaning.”

Atsumu smirks knowing that he can pass an Omi Inspection with flying colors. The man trusts him with his food and dishes after all.

Once Sakusa has deemed his cleaning job up to his standards, they settle into the setter’s sofa that the raven says is too soft, which really, is just blasphemy. Sitting close to each other has become the norm as of recently. Atsumu tests the limits of this newfound closeness with casual touches, always over clothing though.

Together, they comment on good and bad plays. If Atsumu lays into Iizuna a little harder than necessary because he’s Sakusa’s former setter, no one needs to know.

The game ends with a victory for the Red Falcons. By this time, it’s late evening, and the two call it a night. Atsumu walks Sakusa to the door to see him out. With all the time they spend like this, it almost feels like they’re dating. Would it feel even better if they actually were? Would Atsumu be allowed to hug and kiss the man in front of him?

His thoughts are interrupted by Sakusa cupping his cheek and bringing his head up to look him in the eyes. His hand is cool against Atsumu’s warm cheek. With wide eyes, the blonde looks into Sakusa’s deep, black irises.

“Everything okay?” The raven asks.

Leaning into the touch he replies, “Of course. Just thinkin’.”

“Well don’t. You look stupid,” he smirks with a hint of mischief. Atsumu just rolls his eyes.

They stare at each other for a moment longer before Sakusa finally drops his hand and takes his leave. Atsumu shuts the door after him and leans back against it. A content smile plays on his lips as he brings his hand up to touch where Sakusa held his face. The warm feeling in his chest is soothing and washes over his entire being. Maybe it’s just his final shards of hope clinging on to his unfathomable love for Sakusa, but something between them is shifting.

On Monday, Atsumu wakes feeling like he’s been hit by a truck. Breathing is already difficult, and he hasn’t even gotten up yet. It’s like a ten-pound weight is constantly pressing against his chest. He knows he should take it easy today and stay in, but he just can’t. He’s not going to let stupid flowers stop him. Foregoing his morning run is his compromise for still going to practice.

His intention to participate just a little is short-lived, for as soon as the team spots him, he’s forced on the bench. Really, he didn’t think he looked _that_ bad. Both Meian and Sakusa are giving him severe looks. He pulls out his phone and turns the camera to selfie mode. Okay, maybe he does look that bad. His complexion is pale, and he can see how high his shoulders move in an effort to breathe properly.

After that, Atsumu’s health continues to decline. It’s hard to sleep through the night without waking up gasping for air at least once. Flowers are coming up more often, and he thinks his throat has actually been stripped raw. Sakusa makes him a licorice root tea with honey for his throat; it’s actually quite tasty. Atsumu has stopped trying to participate at practice, but he still goes to watch.

It’s painful. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. Atsumu can’t play the sport he loves, his friends watch him suffer, and the fact that the love of his life doesn’t love him in return are just a few points of the many he can name. Every day is a constant reminder of what he longs for, what he could have if he wasn’t like this. 

It’s not like he expects love in return for his own. Though it’d be nice to know what it feels like - to be loved back. However, as he watches Sakusa on the court before him, Atsumu wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything.

**~~~***~~~***~~~**

Kiyoomi is worried. Everyone has seen how Atsumu’s health has taken a turn for the worse over the last couple of weeks. He keeps glancing at the blonde from where he’s putting away dishes in the kitchen. Atsumu sits on Kiyoomi’s couch watching some nature show.

Since the day he found out that he’s the cause of Atsumu’s Hanahaki, Kiyoomi decided to be open to the idea of romance - to at least try. Osamu was all for the idea but thought they should tell Atsumu that they know. They compromised with Kiyoomi saying that he would tell him when he needs to. He fears that time is now.

Kiyoomi may not know what love feels like, but he can honestly say that he truly likes Atsumu. He cares deeply for the other man and enjoys his company. The urge to touch him is a bit unsettling, though. He’s trying to gradually introduce it into their relationship. The desire to kiss Atsumu is strong, but he doesn’t want to freak the other man out by a sudden change in behavior.

This is why they need to have this conversation. It’s going to be uncomfortable, but what about this situation isn’t?

After putting away the last plate, Kiyoomi joins Atsumu on the couch.

“Omi! Look at that cute lil’ bastard!” The blonde excitedly points to the television.

He turns to see a shark and curls his nose, “There is absolutely nothing cute about it.”

Atsumu gasps, “But his snoot just looks so boop-able!”

Kiyoomi snorts. “Sure. Until it bites your arm off.”

“It’s just a reef shark!”

“I’ll pass.” They watch more about the sharks while Kiyoomi tries to figure out how to go about this. In the end, he just decides to just go for it. “Atsumu, I need to talk to you about something.”

Sensing the serious nature of the upcoming conversation, Atsumu mutes the television and turns his attention to the spiker beside him. “What’s up, Omi?”

Kiyoomi looks at the man before him. Although his eyes look tired, there’s still a hint of the usual exuberance in them. And his handsome face may be pale, but his smile brings out his true beauty. Kiyoomi wants to see him like this completely healthy. Why has he never looked before? Now he can’t seem to look away. 

“It’s about your Hanahaki.”

Atsumu’s smile fades, “Ah. I was wonderin’ when ya were gonna bring it up.”

“I don’t know how to say this delicately, so I’ll just come out with it,” he pauses to steady himself. This could go really badly. “I know that it’s because of me.”

Atsumu freezes. “What?” He manages in a small, strangled voice.

Before he can get too worked up, Kiyoomi takes his hand. “It’s okay, Atsumu.”

However, his attempt is in vain as Atsumu surges up from the couch and starts breathing heavily. “So all this,” he motions around. “It’s not real?” Atsumu grabs at his hair. “Ya’ve just been doin’ this to placate me? Or ‘cause ya feel guilty?”

Kiyoomi rises and tries to approach the distraught man, “No. That’s not what I’m saying. If you’d just sit down and list-”

“I needta leave,” he makes for the door trying to hide the tears forming in his eyes.

Kiyoomi grabs his arm and turns Atsumu to face him. Grabbing the setter’s other arm, he looks straight at him. “Atsumu, I like you!” Kiyoomi blurts out.

Atsumu stops struggling to get away, but his breathing is still labored. “Don’t do this to me,” he turns his head, avoiding the raven’s gaze. Kiyoomi can see tears running silently down his cheeks. No, no, this isn’t what he wants.

“Hey, look at me!” He shakes the blonde gently, regaining his eyes. “I wouldn’t say something I don’t mean. And for some reason, I like your annoying ass.” At that Atsumu quirks a teary smile. “I may not know what love is, but I want to learn. I want to learn with you, Atsumu.”

Atsumu looks struck. Flashes of blue from the television reflect in his shiny golden-brown eyes. “Kiyoomi,” he says breathlessly. Kiyoomi feels his heart stutter at the sound of his name being said like that.

Suddenly, Atsumu’s face contorts in pain. His labored breathing turns into gasping and only Kiyoomi’s grip on him keeps the man upright. 

“Atsumu!” 

Kiyoomi brings the blonde gently down to the ground with him so they’re kneeling. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s useless. While Atsumu coughs and chokes on flowers, Kiyoomi keeps a light hand on his shoulder that he hopes will keep the other man grounded.

When Atsumu stops making noise, Kiyoomi starts to panic. He has his mouth open and is trying to pull something out like during the volleyball game. Except this time, nothing is coming out. Pushing Atsumu’s hand out of the way, Kiyoomi takes the blonde’s chin in his left hand to angle it up so he can see. With the index finger on his other, he plunges in to try and knock the flowers loose.

Kiyoomi isn’t thinking about the saliva on his hand or the blood that is sputtering from Atsumu’s mouth. All he can think is that Atsumu can’t die. Kiyoomi can’t lose him when he just got him.

When he manages to knock the obstruction loose, Atsumu begins coughing again. Several bloody flowers fall from his mouth onto the floor. Once he stops coughing, they stare at each other for a moment. Then Atsumu chokes on a sob. Kiyoomi immediately pulls him into his embrace.

“Kiyoomi,” he begins to bawl into Kiyoomi’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He wraps his arms around Kiyoomi, and his hands clutch the back of his shirt.

“It’s all right,” he shushes Atsumu, petting his hair. “I’ve got you.”

Still kneeling on the floor with blood splattered on his face, Kiyoomi holds onto Atsumu tight. _He’s still here. He’s still breathing._ Resting his own head on blonde locks; they stay like that, too afraid to let the other go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left! Thanks for all the support.


	6. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiyoomi wants to know if he's in love, but is it too late?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my beautiful, wonderful readers! Thank you so much for all the support I've received. I'm truly moved. I spent a lot of time trying to decide how this all should end, so I hope that this conclusion meets expectations. Hope you enjoy!

Kiyoomi is admittedly afraid of a lot of things. He has an irrational fear of germs, crowds of large people terrify him, he’s constantly worried about his health, bugs and other creepy crawlies can go straight to hell, and there’s just something unnatural about clusters of small holes… But now that list has something new at the top. Every day, Kiyoomi wakes up in absolute crippling fear that he’s going to find Atsumu dead. That he asphyxiated in his sleep and Kiyoomi wasn’t there to save him.

Since Atsumu’s episode in Kiyoomi’s apartment a few days ago, he demanded a key to the blonde’s home. It’s for safety. And to calm Kiyoomi’s anxiety. He’s honest to God about to make the stubborn asshole live with him for the time being. Really, his anxiety and paranoia have gotten to that point. Barging into Atsumu’s apartment first thing in the morning if he doesn’t answer his text in a timely manner is starting to become a trend. So maybe Kiyoomi’s definition of a “timely manner” differs slightly from the average person, but he’s on edge. Maybe he’s just going crazy. It sure feels like it.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, Kiyoomi is pretty sure he’s just losing it. Atsumu was having a good day and went out to “bother ‘Samu,” and Kiyoomi feels jittery that he’s not in the same vicinity. The blonde is constantly on his mind. It’s only been three days, but they haven’t been able to spend much time together between a doctor’s visit, practice, the team, and Osamu. This isn’t normal, right? No one person should occupy so much of Kiyoomi’s headspace. He can’t even focus on the volleyball game he recorded.

With an agitated huff, Kiyoomi turns off the television and gets up. He’s too restless. Maybe he should talk to someone to sort this out. He grimaces at his available options. With any luck, Akaashi might be here already. Bokuto was droning on at practice about his boyfriend coming to visit. With his resolve set, Kiyoomi makes his way to his most boisterous teammate’s door.

After knocking, a crash followed by pounding feet is heard. Kiyoomi closes his eyes, contemplating his decision. The door then opens to a beaming, yet surprised Bokuto, “Hey, hey, hey! You’ve never come over to see me before, Omi-kun!”

“Actually I’m here to see Akaashi.”

Bokuto’s hair seems to wilt, but his eyes shine at the mention of Akaashi’s name. “Of course! Come on in!” He steps aside and motions.

Kiyoomi hesitates and has to give himself a mental pep talk before stepping through the threshold, “Sorry for the intrusion.” 

It’s fine. Akaashi is here. He wouldn’t put up with staying in filth. That doesn’t stop Kiyoomi from analyzing every crevice he can get his eyes on.

“Keiji, Omi-kun is here to talk to you!” Bokuto says as they walk further into the apartment.

Akaashi looks up with a neutral expression before placing a bookmark in his novel and setting it aside. “Sakusa-san, what can I do for you?”

He shifts his weight to his other foot before speaking, “I wanted to ask you a few questions.” This is awkward. Why is he here? Why did he think this was a good idea again?

Akaashi gestures for Kiyoomi to sit down in the adjacent chair to his spot on the couch. Bokuto hovers with pent up energy that he doesn’t seem to know what to do with. It’s making him nervous. 

“Kou, why don’t you make us some tea?” He sends the other man an appreciative look when Bokuto immediately dashes to the kitchen. “So what is it that you want to ask?”

“How did you know you were in love with Bokuto?” It tumbles from his lips before he can decide to forget this ever happened and leave.

Akaashi raises one finely shaped eyebrow, but otherwise, his expression stays the same. “It’s hard to say. I think I was in love with him far before I realized it.” He pauses to contemplate. “I suppose my feelings naturally shifted into conscious realization.”

Kiyoomi frowns. That doesn’t help at all. But what did he really expect? “That’s not the kind of answer you were looking for I’m guessing,” Akaashi says at his expression.

“Not really.”

Bokuto comes back with a tea tray and sets it on the coffee table before sitting next to his boyfriend. He pours a cup and hands it to Akaashi, who gives him a fond smile. The white-grey haired man then begins to pour his own cup and asks, “What are you guys talking about?”

“Sakusa-kun wanted to know how to tell if you’re in love,” Akaashi says without reservation. It’s not that Kiyoomi cares if Bokuto knows; he just doesn’t want him to get worked up about it. He’s far too excitable.

Surprisingly, the man just leans back cradling his cup of hot tea with a small smile. “I remember the moment when I knew I was in love with you,” his voice is probably the most controlled Kiyoomi has ever heard it. He actually kind of hates it. It disrupts his norm.

“You do?” Akaashi looks somewhat surprised.

Bokuto nods, “How could I forget?” The way they look at each other is disgustingly sweet. Kiyoomi finds himself almost envious. Does Atsumu look at him like that?

“Well?” Akaashi prods.

“It was during Nationals my third year. I had just scored the final point against Nekoma, and we turned to each other with all this adrenaline and I thought, ‘Wow, he’s the best!’ instead of ‘I’m the best!’ like usual. Then I was like, ‘Wow, I must really love this guy.’ and then I just blurted it out!”

Akaashi chuckles and places a hand on Bokuto’s, “I remember that moment, too. It’s one of my favorite memories.”

Bokuto beams at his boyfriend, then he turns his head towards Kiyoomi, “It’s not always something profound. One day you’ll just look at the person, and think, ‘Oh, I love you.’ You’ll just know.”

After thanking the couple, Kiyoomi walks back to his own apartment in silent contemplation. Bokuto surprised him. His words make sense in a strange way. He’ll just know, huh? When did Bokuto become so wise? He made it sound so simple.

Later that evening after Kiyoomi has thoroughly scrubbed himself free of any lingering germs he could have contracted from Bokuto’s living space, there’s a knock at his door. He immediately knows it’s Atsumu by the way knuckles seem to drag lazily across the wood after each knock. Kiyoomi gets up to let the other man in and tries to suppress a smile even though there’s no one there to see it.

Opening the door, Atsumu stands there with a wide grin hiding something behind his back in sweatpants and Kiyoomi’s baggy purple sweater that mysteriously disappeared the other day. Why does that make him look so cute? He can tell that the blonde is freshly showered by the unstyled hair that slightly flops over his right eye. Warmth fills his chest knowing that the other man always considers such things.

“Yes?” Kiyoomi truly struggles not to smile now.

“Omi-Omi! Can we watch a movie together?” He asks, presenting a slightly faded DVD case of Ratatouille.

He looks like a little kid asking if he can get a candy bar at the store. How can Kiyoomi say no? “Fine. Just make sure to wipe it down.”

Atsumu shuffles in with vigor and goes through the standard sanitation steps. “I already did! But I’ll do it again,” he does with no protest. Then he starts towards the living area to put on the DVD. “When I was with ‘Samu earlier we somehow started talkin’ ‘bout Ratatouille and how it was our favorite movie when we were younger, and I got an itch to watch it. Ya’ve seen it right, Omi?”

Kiyoomi shakes his head, “I haven’t actually.”

Atsumu turns to him and actually looks offended, “We needta rectify that immediately!”

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes and sits next to the blonde on the couch. They haven’t spent time alone together since the night Atsumu almost suffocated right in front of him. Now that their feelings are both out there he’s allowed to do more, right? They never really talked about it. Are they together now? Kiyoomi assumes they are. That’s the logical conclusion.

Trying to ignore his overactive mind, he decides to say “Fuck it” and places his arm over the blonde’s shoulders. Atsumu looks at him in apprehension before relaxing and snuggling closer into Kiyoomi’s left side. He rests his head against Kiyoomi’s shoulder and from this close it’s easy to smell the fresh, clean scent the setter gives off.

This is nice. He’s found that touch can actually be pleasant since allowing Atsumu into his life more. When the blonde is in Kiyoomi’s own home, he doesn’t worry about outside microbes invading his carefully crafted space. Atsumu is part of that space now. Has he really been missing out all this time because he refused to allow romance and love into his life? Because he was scared? How trivial it all seems now.

Atsumu holds Kiyoomi’s other hand in his lap, tracing shapes on his skin absentmindedly with his index finger. How long has it been since he’s felt this type of contentment? Too long if he has to think about it.

As the movie nears its end, Kiyoomi can admit that it’s cute. Though he can only surmise why this was the twins’ favorite movie years ago. Maybe because of all the food? He vaguely wonders if this is why he’s heard the twins call each other different types of pasta. He smirks at the thought.

Looking down, he finds Atsumu fast asleep. His mouth is slightly agape and his hand clutches at the hem of Kiyoomi’s shirt. Smiling, he brushes blonde hair out of his face to see the sleeping man better. _I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life anymore. I love you too much._ He thinks. Then it hits him. The thought he just had. Kiyoomi loves him. _I love Atsumu!_

He wants to tell him, but Kiyoomi knows Atsumu hasn’t been getting much sleep. So instead, he arranges himself to carry the other to bed. Make no mistake, Atsumu is not light even though he has clearly lost weight over the last couple of months. So Kiyoomi struggles, only slightly, hauling him to the bedroom. He tucks Atsumu in bed and kisses him gently on the forehead. _I’ll tell him tomorrow._ He decides. After readying himself for bed, Kiyoomi slides in next to his love. For the first time, Kiyoomi falls asleep with warmth flowing through his body and a smile on his face.

Kiyoomi wakes automatically at the usual time of 6:00 AM. Turning his head, he sees Atsumu is still asleep. His chest rises and falls, though there is audible wheezing. Leaning over, he gently cups Atsumu’s handsome face and strokes his cheek with his thumb. Briefly, he skims over that plump bottom lip that he wants to taste. Reluctantly, he pulls himself away and out of bed.

The Jackals have a morning practice today, and although Kiyoomi knows that the setter usually goes to watch; he decides to let him sleep. He knows Atsumu will be pissy about it later, but it’s for his health. Scribbling out a note, he leaves it on the side table and then heads out for practice.

Practice goes as well as it can with their usual setter missing under unfortunate circumstances. Kiyoomi is actually shocked he didn’t show up at some point just to spite him. However, he smirks thinking about how soon Atsumu will be on the court again.

It’s approaching noon when Kiyoomi’s cell phone rings as he steps inside his apartment. Checking the caller ID, he sees that it’s Osamu, and his heart starts to race. Osamu has never called him before. His first instinct is to think that something happened, but that’s just the anxiety talking. It could be Atsumu. Maybe his phone battery died.

“Hello?”

“Sakusa!” Osamu’s panicked voice rings over the line. “Somethin’s wrong with ‘Tsumu! It- it’s not like before. I already called an ambulance.”

Fear seizes Kiyoomi. His heart drops, and he breaks out into a cold sweat. He’s already heading back out the door. “Try to dislodge the flowers that are stuck,” he says in a shaky, yet relatively normal tone.

“-omi!” he hears a broken form of his name wail in the background. Oh, God. No, no, no. Please, no. He’s flying down the stairs of the complex and out the door.

“I tried. There’s nothin’ there!” He hears a siren through the phone. “The ambulance is here. Come to Rousai Hospital.”

“On my way,” Kiyoomi replies before hanging up and racing towards the hospital. It’s about 3 km away. He can make it there in ten minutes.

With his feet pounding on the pavement, Kiyoomi can’t help but think that this is his fault. Is it because he didn’t say “I love you?” If he had just woken Atsumu up and said it, would this have been avoided? Has his ignorance killed Atsumu? Is this really it?

Running faster than he has in his entire life, Kiyoomi pretends that the wetness forming in his eyes is just from the wind. It’s not because the man he loves is possibly dead.

He blasts through the hospital doors, making several people turn to him in bewilderment. Looking around with wild eyes, he sees Osamu hastily making his way to him. 

Kiyoomi grabs the other man by the shoulders, “Where is he? I need to tell him that I love him!” 

He probably looks deranged. First, he bursts into an ER waiting room in a flying panic, then he borderline throttles a man while yelling at him. Not to mention he’s breathing heavily, has tear tracks running down his face, and his eyes are most likely bloodshot.

However, Osamu understands perfectly as his eyes widen. “This way, hurry!”

Upon reaching Atsumu’s designated room, there are two nurses and a doctor, who appears to be talking calmly. Kiyoomi’s eyes land on Atsumu, who has a nasal cannula and is coughing on a hospital bed.

Without otherwise announcing his presence, Kiyoomi dashes to Atsumu’s side. “Atsumu, I love you!” He grabs the blonde’s hand desperately and hunches over the bed. “I love you! So don’t you dare die on me, you asshole!” He can barely see through the tears clouding his vision. However, he can definitely feel the hand that’s caressing his face and the fingers wiping away the tears.

Finally looking up now that he can see, Atsumu is smiling at him. The doctor and nurses look stunned, yet amused at the display. Are these people daft? What’s wrong with them? Why aren’t they doing anything? His eyes dart between them all trying to understand.

“Kiyoomi,” Atsumu says between coughs. His eyes settle back on brown ones. “‘’M not gonna die.” Kiyoomi still doesn’t understand, but he’s too emotional to say anything else at the moment.

“What do ya mean?” Osamu approaches the cluster of people around the bed.

The doctor takes over, “It means that Miya-san’s Hanahaki disease is clearing up. If you look here,” he indicates to the X-Ray on the screen, “you can see that the flowers are starting to wilt and decay by the shape they’re taking on. As I was explaining to Miya-san before your... entrance, he’s coughing and struggling to breathe so much because pieces of dried petals are breaking off and irritating the airway. I’d like to do a bronchoscopy to suction out as much as we can. The rest will have to be expelled over time.”

“Wait, I said I don’t want surgery,” Atsumu says, still holding Kiyoomi’s face. The spiker is still trying to absorb the fact that Atsumu is not going to die.

“Oh, no, it’s a procedure we do right here in the room. You’ll be awake,” the doctor goes on to explain what the whole procedure entails. It sounds disgusting.

“Can Kiyoomi stay in the room with me?”

“If you both so choose. He’ll have to wear gloves, a gown, and mask though.”

Atsumu is looking at Kiyoomi with pleading eyes, who still has yet to say anything since his outburst. But how can he say no? “Okay,” he says weakly and grips Atsumu’s hand tighter. He gets a broad smile in return.

The medical staff leaves to get everything prepared for the procedure, and Osamu collapses into a chair, emotionally exhausted. Kiyoomi drags a chair over with his foot, refusing to let go of Atsumu for a second. As he takes a seat, he sees Atsumu cough up a gross, wrinkled, brown petal. Kiyoomi scrunches up his nose. The blonde chuckles deep in his chest at his antics. Then he pauses for a moment.

“So, Kiyoomi, ya love me?” He asks in awe.

Kiyoomi looks into the chocolate brown eyes that he loves as they start to pool with joyful tears when he nods, “Yes. I love you, Atsumu.”

Atsumu begins to cry but manages to blubber out, “I love ya, too, Kiyoomi.”

Kiyoomi embraces him tightly and silently cries, too. He’s not a crier. Today is just an exception. It’s not every day that the love of your life goes from being possibly dead to essentially cured. It takes a toll. His heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest. Atsumu is going to live. He’s going to live, and Kiyoomi gets to love him.

**~~~***~~~***~~~**

Omi holds his hand through the entire procedure. Though Atsumu is sure he’s grimacing every time there’s a slurping noise from the suction tube shoved down his throat. It’s not painful, really, just uncomfortable. They gave him some good shit before they started.

Atsumu and Omi had forgotten that Osamu was in the room while they were being super sappy earlier until he announced that he was going to go make some calls. He hopes his twin will give him some slack considering the circumstances. His Omi-Omi loves him after all!

After the procedure is over, the doctor explains that there are most likely still some residual particles left that he may be coughing up over the next few weeks. Atsumu also has permanent lung scarring from the flowers, but it should have minimal impact on his overall health. That means he’ll be back to volleyball full-time by the end of the month! It’s an exciting notion.

When Atsumu is released the next day, he feels tired. Not the same tiredness that he felt with Hanahaki, though. His throat and lungs hurt from having tubes in them, but it’s such a contrast to the hurt because of the flowers. He feels so much lighter. There’s no more ten-pound weight sitting on his chest.

This time when Atsumu walks out of the hospital doors, he holds Kiyoomi’s hand. And isn’t that just the best feeling? They leisurely walk back to the complex in the mid-afternoon sun just enjoying each other’s company. Even February’s chill doesn’t dampen the warm feeling in his chest.

When they arrive home, they separate so Atsumu can shower before drifting back over to Omi’s place as he has most nights. However, this time before he can claim his spot on the couch, Kiyoomi pulls him into a hug. Atsumu melts into his embrace and snakes his own arms around Omi’s neck.

The raven-haired man pulls away slightly to lovingly caress Atsumu’s face and keeps one arm wrapped around his waist. Then Omi’s looking at him with those deep, fathomless eyes. Atsumu could get lost in them, and he’d be perfectly content never finding a way out. The hand that was caressing him shifts to tilt his head up as Kiyoomi’s face inches closer and his eyes flutter shut.

Atsumu’s heart works in overdrive as he realizes what’s happening. He closes his eyes right before he feels soft lips meet his own. It only lasts a few seconds before Omi pulls away. It’s not enough. However, Atsumu has little time to be disappointed, for the taller man dives back in for another. This one has more confidence in it. Their lips work in tandem, gently gliding over the other’s unhurriedly.

Atsumu feels his whole body flush. This is everything and more. Running a hand through Kiyoomi’s luscious, curly hair, he presses himself closer. It’s better than he ever dreamed. The hand on his face moves again to cradle his head and angles it to Kiyoomi’s liking, all the while gently brushing his thumb against Atsumu’s cheek.

After a few minutes, they reluctantly break their kisses to rest their foreheads against each other. Atsumu feels like he might burst into tears at any moment. God, why is he so emotional lately? He’s just so happy. The amount of joy he feels leaping in his heart is almost unbearable. It needs an outlet.

He feels a wetness slide slowly down his face. Ah, fuck. Dammit. He doesn’t want to cry right now.

“What’s wrong, Atsumu?” Omi asks softly.

“Nothin’s wrong, Omi. ‘M jus’ overwhelmed. ‘M so happy right now my feelin’s had nowhere else ta go.”

Kiyoomi’s lips give a small upwards lilt before they’re descending on every spot that a tear spills. “As long as they’re happy tears,” he says between kisses.

This man is literally killing him. Okay, maybe not literally anymore. But this is too much! He never imagined Kiyoomi could be this soft. Oh, God. Atsumu swears he’s shaking, and only Omi’s arm around his waist is keeping him steady.

Later that night when they’re snuggled close facing each other in Kiyoomi’s bed, Atsumu wonders what their relationship status is. He knows labels don’t actually mean that much, but he really wants to call Kiyoomi his boyfriend. And he might actually combust if Omi says that about him. Okay, maybe they mean something to Atsumu. He needs the reassurance.

“Hey, Omi, what are we?”

The raven shuffles in front of him, “What do you mean?”

“Like are we datin’ or-”

His nervous rambling is cut short before it can even start by a rather unattractive snort. Oh, who’s he kidding? It’s adorable. “You’re such an idiot sometimes.” Atsumu swears he can actually hear the eye roll. “You’re annoying ass is mine and only mine. We’re together. If you need a label, then you’re my boyfriend.”

Did he just whimper? Why is he like this? Kiyoomi pulls him closer and chuckles in amusement, “I guess that’s to your liking.”

Atsumu hides his red face in Omi’s chest but nods. Tilting his face up, he sees his boyfriend looking at him already. _Boyfriend!_ He grins in what he hopes is a cute way, “Hey, Omi, I love ya.”

“I love you, too.”

After a week of recovery, Atsumu has coughed up a few more pieces of gross, dead flowers. He thinks (hopes) that’s all of them. His energy levels are back to normal, and honestly, he feels pretty great. With doctor approval, he starts to participate in practice again. It’s his goal to play in an official game before the season ends.

“Omi-kun!” He sets the ball to the curly-haired spiker, who expertly smashes it over the net. “Nice ki-”

“It was too low,” interrupts the raven. Atsumu gapes at him. How dare- “I think you’re a bit rusty,” the asshole smirks at him.

“Now listen here, ya prick! That was a perfectly good toss!”

“Just because I hit it doesn’t mean it’s good.”

Atsumu grumbles to himself, “I’ll show ya a good toss.”

By the end of practice, he does indeed manage to give Omi several great tosses. However, the other man doesn’t even dignify him a compliment. That only makes Atsumu hunger for it more. Omi’s praise and attention is an addiction. So naturally, what’s the best way to gain such desires?

On the walk home, he fishes. “Omi-kun, don’t ya think I did great today?”

“You still have a ways to go.”

“Omi-Omi, how ‘bout that last toss? It was perfect, right?”

“It was better than your other ones.”

Atsumu pouts. “Omi~,” he drags out the other man’s name with a whine. “Why’re ya bein’ so mean?” Kiyoomi side-eyes him but doesn’t say anything. “Ugh, yer doin’ this on purpose!”

Even though Atsumu can’t see it, he knows Kiyoomi’s smirking behind his mask. “You’re such a brat.”

“But I’m yer brat,” he drawls suggestively with a little eyebrow wiggle.

Kiyoomi scrunches up his nose, “You’re insufferable.”

“Oh c’mon!” Atsumu exclaims. “Ya love me.”

With a deep sigh, he agrees, “Yeah, I do.”

_“And finishing off the starting lineup is number thirteen, Miya Atsumu, with his return debut in the final game of the season!”_

The crowd cheers as Atsumu jogs onto the court. He did it. After working hard at practice and several self-care regimens, he’s back on the court for an official game! Taking his position to serve, Atsumu shares a quick smile with Kiyoomi. He couldn’t have done any of it without him.

Focusing his attention on the game ahead, he takes six steps back to begin his spike serve. After winning this game, they’ll go to the Championships and take it by storm! He hits the ball right between two players for a service ace. Atsumu gives Kiyoomi a haughty smirk with hooded lids. The other man just rolls his eyes. What a tsundere. Cute. The ball comes back to him for another serve. After a deep breath, Atsumu takes another six steps back, runs, and leaps.

**\---**

A great love is a love that challenges the test of time. It stays with you, helps you grow. Whether it’s a whirlwind romance or a love story for the ages, nothing can contest how true and pure those feelings are. It’s a love that everyone dreams of and wishes for in the depths of their heart. Something every poet, writer, and artist tries to evoke and portray, though it can never quite be captured. It’s that love that’s completely indescribable. It’s an all-consuming love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is the last chapter of my first fic, that it's actually done. Wow. Thanks again so much for reading. 
> 
> I'm already hyped to write something new for SakuAtsu, so if there's any specific AU or trope you're interested in seeing please feel free to leave a suggestion! 
> 
> Much Love,
> 
> ~Twila❄


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